Page 15 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

“I’m Aria,” she said, offering the man a tight smile.

He gave a leisurely nod that could only be described as arrogant. “Who are you with?”

She cocked a brow, her irritation piqued. “Who says I’m with anyone?” But wait—that didn’t sound very I’m-so-excited-to-be-Nik’s-girlfriend, now, did it? Slapping on a smile, she added quickly, “But I am. Obviously. Just…”

Shenker’s brows drew together as she stumbled over her words. Oh, fuck. This wasn’t going well. When all else fails, flirt. Aria set her sketchbook aside and mirrored the man’s posture, thrusting out her own non-existent chest. His gaze flickered, not to her tits, but down to her thighs. Good enough.

“Why don’t you see if you can guess?” she asked, making her voice as breathy as it was ever gonna get. Maybe the Marilyn Monroe impression would draw attention away from her rambling mouth.

“Alright,” he drawled, looking over at the pool. She followed his gaze and found the weird ball game still going strong.

Except for Nik, who stood in the middle of the watery pitch, glaring directly at them.

Oh, dear. Was she not supposed to talk to Shenker? Oops.

“I’m going to guess,” Shenker murmured, “that it’s Nik, since he’s looking over here like he wants to murder me. But if you are with Nik, you won’t be for long—”

“Charming,” she snorted. “Do you often get to know people by insulting them?”

His confidence faltered a little, that odd smile slipping. “Well, I… I just meant, Nik only does casual, so if you’re interested in—”

“Nik’s my boyfriend, actually. And he’s coming over here.” Why is he coming over here?

Aria watched his progress with a combination of alarm and appreciation. Alarm because he had a smouldering sort of rage-y look on his face that she’d never actually seen before. Appreciation also because of that smouldering look, along with the droplets of water sliding down his deliciously muscular legs. Lord, the man had some thighs. She supposed it made sense, considering his profession, but damn.

“Boyfriend?” Shenker’s expression betrayed a hint of worry, which was smart. Because, while Nik was a sweetheart with a constant smile, he also gave off this low thrum of dangerous energy, the kind that suggested he wasn’t to be messed with.

And Aria, she reminded herself, was not at all attracted to that. Not in the slightest.

* * *

Ah, Tom Shenker. A storm cloud on a sunny day. A shit in a showroom toilet. The man was more adept at ruining Nik’s mood than he was at keeping—and, Nik’s hatred aside, he had to admit Shenker was a damned good keeper. The twat.

Whack—Kieran’s hand landed between Nik’s shoulder blades in what the short, circumspect full-back probably considered a friendly pat. “Head in the game, Christou.”

Nik grunted in reply. His glower remained pinned to Aria and Shenker, chatting away on the sun loungers. Truthfully, he’d spent half the afternoon staring at Aria from the corner of his eye, anyway—she was pretty fucking easy to stare at. Especially in that shimmering string bikini, blue as the pool and tiny enough to display a body he could drown in.

Which he absolutely was not going to do, obviously.

Until she asked for it.

Suddenly, Aria and Shenker turned to look at him as one—as if they were talking about him. Ri’s eyes met his, and something electric shot through his body, strong enough to snatch his breath for a second. Fuck.

“I’m going over there,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Still, Kieran replied. “You don’t need to worry about Shenker. That’s your girl.”

Wise words, except she wasn’t his girl. She was just pretending to be. And while Nik knew, logically, that his fake girlfriend wasn’t going to fake-cheat on him, his blood turned to ice at the thought of his very real obsession falling for someone else right under his nose.

That was easy enough to avoid, though. He’d just have to make sure she liked him best.

“Nik,” Varo shouted. “Where you going? You’re down one-nil!”

“Time out,” he called over his shoulder as he hauled himself out of the pool. He could feel Aria’s eyes on him, burning just like the sun-baked stone under his palms. So, he might have flexed a little more than necessary as he stood, and he may have walked over to them kind of slowly, just to enjoy the way her gaze raked over his body.

And, since she was unashamedly staring, Nik decided he could do the same.

Jesus, she looked good. Sweet little tits, thick waist, hips and a belly he could grab while he fucked her. Not that he was going to fuck her. This was all just theoretical. Or rather, hopeful. She really was covered in tattoos, and he found himself desperate to trace every single one with his tongue—from the gemstone heart below her collarbone to the little jellyfish swimming up her ankle. She leant back against her sun lounger, one leg bent, so he caught a glimpse of the plump, bikini-covered V between her thighs.

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